The Avari's Song
by Silmarilz1701
Summary: The Avari have one very important tradition for their new chieftains: they must travel West, across the Orocarni, and visit Cuivienen before they will be accepted. Take that journey with the newest Kwendi chieftess, Brilien. Fourth Age.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Welcome! This is a standalone side story to my main Fëanoriel Chronicles. Like all my other side stories, this is critical for knowledge in the main stories, but the main stories have no bearing in the other direction._

 _This story is me having fun with the Avari. We know almost nothing about them, other than their tribe names and that they were closer to early Mannish culture than the culture of the Eldar. For those who don't know, the Avari are the Unwilling. The elves who never set out to the Blessed Realm. This the story of one of those._

 _Enjoy this little, short intro. I can't promise how many chapters will be in this story, but I imagine at least 3-5. The Avari will play a larger role in my next big main story, Flight to the East, including this character._

* * *

Long she had traveled, long and far. Her reddish brown hair was matted from so many days in the wilderness. But she had a duty to perform, and no amount of wild wolves or cold drakes was going to keep her from her mission.

Brilien, daughter of the former Chief of the Kwendi, was making her way over the Orocarni to the inland sea of Helcar as all her predecessors once had. As the prospective Chieftess of her folk, she had to complete a pilgrimage to Cuivienen. This was no easy task. If it were easy, there would be no meaning in it.

She recalled the stories told to her by the eldest of the her tribe. Stories passed down to them from their elders, and theirs from their elders. Stories of _Erfaron*_ the Great Hunter, who had come to steal them from their homes. And their home had been the shores of Cuivienen.

She wasn't an old elf by any sense of the word, yet her bones ached from the rain she was now experiencing. In her youth she had often travelled to the land of her farthest elven brethren, the Kinn-lai. They lived near regions called Khand and Harad, and were fluent in Mannish tongues. Brilien, ever an eager student, learned it as well. Not that it helped her on this quest one bit.

Brilien wrapped her blue cloak tighter around her body as she sheltered beneath a large boulder formation. Her seventh day in the Red Mountains seemed to be ending in a particularly dreary way. The rain, endless. The stars, hidden. She sighed.

After two thousand years of living east of the Orocarni, she thought this would've been a welcome adventure. No elf journeyed west of the Red Mountains, none save the chieftains of the six tribes. She was honored to be counted among them. Her father had only been chieftain for two hundred years before his death at the hands of a cold drake six months prior. Now the tribe fell to her.

A flash of lightning ripped across the sky. The gods must've been very angry this night. Only two gods mattered every day to the Avari. One was _Othanar*,_ the Warrior god. The other, the great Enemy, the Corruptor, and Destroyer. He was known as _Guruthon*_. Their tales told of how Othanar and Guruthon battled on the plains of the Northern Wastes, until finally Othanar and his brethren dragged Guruthon away in chains, destroying his fortress. But not completely.

Only a few Avari dared travel into the ruins of Utumno, and fewer survived the return. Brilien and her brothers were some of those few. The ruins of that great fortress was rich in tradable goods, weapons, and armor of the Ancient Years. If you survived the trip, it was profitable.

Brilien looked up at the sky. She caught sight of a few stars peeking out from behind the passing storm clouds. The rain died down. No more did the rain come in rivers, but in a light drizzle. Still, it was chilly even in the summer among the Orocarni. So she hunkered down and tried to sleep. Tomorrow she hoped to leave the mountains, and from the foot of the Orocarni it was but a day's march to Cuivienen. At least according to legend.

* * *

 _* = My names for the Valar. I used Silvan language. Erfaron is Oromë, Othanar is Tulkas, and Guruthon is Morgoth of course._


	2. Chapter 2

Brilien was up at the break of dawn, as soon as the brilliant Sun rose in the sky. They called her Caranorien, "Of the Red Fire". Some believed her to be a spirit, like until the gods that had first found the elves. Others disagreed. Brilien liked to believe the eldest of her people, figuring they knew best, so she honored the Sun as a god.

She packed her camp up, rolling her mat into something that fit on her back. She pulled on her armor pieces that covered sections of her arms and legs. Trophies, won from her expeditions into the ruined mines of Utumno. She knew not what they were forged from, but they were light yet strong. It was similar to the mithril that the Orocarni dwarves mined, yet slightly heavier. She placed the armor fractions over animal fur to facilitate comfort. The rest of her clothes was layered cloths of varying browns, with decorative red and blue beads sewn to the edges.

She bore three weapons. The first, a spear little less than her height, about five feet, had a dagger point at the end forged of a viciously sharp metal, also found in Utumno. Her actual dagger was more a hunting knife, used for carving meat. And at last, she bore a bow made of yew and elven hair as string; it was nothing fancy. Just a good hunting bow. She preferred her spear in combat.

At around noon, Brilien clambered up onto a large rock to get a better view of the surrounding territory. She was pleasantly surprised that just over the next big rock was the exit of the mountains. At last the Orocarni were over, and before her she saw long, green grass that stretched for leagues in each direction.

Her face lit up in excitement. She was getting close. It was almost over, her long journey to Cuivienen. She scramble down from the large rock and hurried forward, running and jumping between rocks.

Within a minute or two, Brilien hit the grass. She looked up to see which way the sun was headed and aligned herself with it to journey west. With a happy cry, she took off at a run.

She didn't know how far it would be before she reached the birthplace of her ancestors. However this mattered little to her. She knew she would reach it, she trusted in the sun and stars to guide her.

Brilien took a rest that night, finding herself in a small forested area. She climbed a tree to hide herself from any wildlife, tying a rope around her waist and the trunk. Her spear was in her hand as she fell into the dream state all elves rested in.

When the morning dawned, she reoriented herself and untied the rope. But a skittering noise halted her actions and she froze. She knew that sound, she had heard it plenty in the Eastern forests. It was the sound of spiders.

She readjusted her grip on the spear and twisted her neck to take a look. Indeed, right below her were three large spiders, red on their backs and lower legs.

 _Curse the spawn of the Great Spider,_ she growled inside.

Quickly she formulated her plan. Drawing her dagger, she glanced once more over at the spiders to line up her shot. With a swift movement she pelted the dagger into the closest of the spiders. It let out a shriek before dying.

Brilien stood on the branch and flipped out of the tree. She stuck her landing well and stabbed the next spider with her spear. The third one skittered over to her and she ducked away from it with a tuck and roll. The spider leapt but Brilien stuck her spear out. She ended up with a dead spider on top of her.

With a disgusted snort, she pushed the squishy spider carcass off herself. She remained lying on the ground for a moment before picking herself up. She cleaned her spear on the ground and ripped the dagger from the other spider. Before setting off again, she retrieved her pack and rope from the tree.

She ran off and on the whole day, heading West, always. Her mind was far afield, looking forward to Cuivienen and what she would find.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Brilien watched the sunset from where she sat in a tree atop a green hill. A massive expanse of water stretched before her, so large she couldn't see an end. The breeze that blew through the air rustled the pine needles of her tree and causes waves to form across the inland sea.

Her heart nearly stopped. After months of travel, she had reached it. Cuivienen stood before her, the birthplace of her race. Or at least what remained of it. She said a prayer of thanksgiving to the Allfather, Eru.

From where she sat in the tree a hundred yards away, Brilien could clearly see the myriad of colors splashing across the sky reflected in the waters below. It looked like it had every day in her dreams. Her best friend and constant confidant, Tríwel, the eldest of their folk, had described her secondhand knowledge of Cuivienen as best she could.

" _Water as clear as glass, stars reflecting in it like in no other sea upon Arda. You'll know it by its beauty, its simplicity. You'll know it in your heart, Brilien."_ Tríwel had said. " _Not cold like the Sea of Ilinnáro, nor as icy as Hyellnen. But yet not warm like the pools of the Kinn-lai. Instead, it will feel like home."_

Home. Brilien smiled to herself, sliding from her tree. The sun was sinking low, and already a field of stars shined far above in the sky. Clasping her spear onto her back, she took off quickly, and yet with a certain reverence. This was hallowed ground. None of her folk, none except the leaders of the Kwendi, had stood where she now walked since the first days. Her father, and his father, and his mother before them. On and on it had gone since the days of the first leaders.

And so as she approached the rocky shore she paused. The edge of the waves now stood but ten paces away. Near her stood a few boulder formations and two pine trees. She remained all eyes on the water, however. It was clear as glass. She could see the myriad patterns of pebbles beneath the surface. And yet, the million stars of Elentári's hand were pictured in incredible detail.

Brilien stood in awe before the inland sea. She wished to touch the water, to feel the sense of home even further. But she did not want to desecrate the hallowed place. And yet she remembered in that moment, nearly fifteen-hundred years ago, when her own father had returned from Cuivienen. He had shown her a stone.

She bent down, kneeling beside the water. The breeze had stilled for the time being. Brilien took her hand and held it above the sea before plunging it into the shallow shore. She could feel the presence of those who had come before her. The water spoke of them. Brilien took hold of a stone, her eyes still closed. She clasped it tight and drew it up. It filled her palm easily.

Suddenly she opened her eyes, feeling a change in the air. Something was wrong. Something was _off._ Brilien stuck the dripping stone into her belt pouch, standing quickly and retreating to a rock formation nearby.

And then she heard voices.

* * *

 **The End**

 **See more of Brilien and her story, the life of the Avari in the Fourth Age, and who the voices belong to in Fëanoriel Chronicles Number 5: Flight to the East.**

 **As always, thanks and prayers go out to Professor Tolkien, my inspiration for everything.**


	4. MORE

Congratulations on finishing _!_

* * *

 **Main Stories:**

* * *

The Other Ranger - Complete

Return to the North - Complete

 **Exploring Westernesse - On Going**

Dreams of Power - Complete

 **Flight to the East - On Going**

Ruin and Wasteland - Future

A Growing Shadow - Future

The Final Prophecy: Aman - Future

The Final Prophecy: Middle Earth - Future

The Final Prophecy: End of Days - Future

* * *

 **Side Stories** :

* * *

Battle Under Trees - Complete

The Avari's Song - Complete

 **The Eagle and the Star - On Going**

 _The Knight and the Huntress - Awaiting Publication_

The Princess and the Traitor - Future

Mosaic of the Desert - Future

Beneath Golden Skies - Future

A Storm of Ice - Future


End file.
